Stray Dog Strut
by Grevola
Summary: The alleys of West Capitol are filled with surprises, like abandoned puppies, muggers, and half-alien teenage boys. Genfic, oneshot, WAFF, humor.


**Title:** Stray Dog Strut**  
>Author:<strong> Grevola  
><strong>WarningNotes:** Humor, rated G, genfic, puppies.

-/-/-/-/-/-

They found the puppies in a box, in a dirty alley behind the corner store where they'd stopped to get a snack. The little yips and barks had drawn first Goten's attention, and of course Trunks had followed behind. Now Goten was crouched down in front of the box, feeding a mass of about five filthy little fluff balls the hot dogs he'd been so insistent that Trunks buy for him.

The older boy stood to one side, arms crossed and trying to look aloof to the whole thing, "You're going to make them sick feeding them that."

"I am _not_," Goten protested, "and they need it, look how hungry they are!"

And it was true, the little puppies were swarming over the food and gulping it down so fast Trunks worried they might choke. Miraculously they didn't, and Trunks found himself soon crouched next to the box, his lanky frame folded up awkwardly next to Goten's still-childish proportions. He poured some water into his hand for the little things to lap up, "They're too little for that kind of food, Goten."

"But they had ta eat _something_," Goten insisted, sounding as whining and pitiful as the little fuzz balls. Of course, by now he had two of the mutts on his lap, and another had some how crawled up on top of his head and was peeking through the unruly spikes of his hair.

"What are we gonna do for 'em Trunks? It'll be dark soon, and that box doesn't look very warm."

Trunks absently petted the puppy that had crawled into his lap, and scratched the ear of the one standoffish little guy still sitting mistrustfully in the box. He sighed at last, "We'll take them back to Capsule. Grandma and Grampa are always taking in strays, they'll know what to do with them."

"Yay!" Goten laughed and one of the puppies stopped licking the younger boy's face to bark in excitement. Trunks just looked at his best friend and sighed to himself. He should have known what would happen the instant Goten heard the yipping.

"Alright, alright," Trunks said, trying to calm everyone down, "how are we going to get them back home? That box is already half falling apart."

"You can carry them in your jacket!" Goten said, holding one of the puppies out for Trunks to take immediately.

"M-me? Why can't _you_ carry them?"

"Because I'm not wearing a jacket, duh," Goten actually rolled his eyes at his best friend. "C'mon Trunks, we can't leave them here..."

"Okay, okay, fine..." Trunks sighed again and unzipped his jacket enough for Goten to load the five squirming balls of puppy into it. Once they were all tucked inside, Trunks wrapped his arms around the bottom to hold them all in.

"There we go!" Goten said, zipping the jacket up almost all the way, even though he had to stand on his toes to do it.

"Hey you guys, settled down," he tried not to laugh as the squirming, wiggling, fuzzy things kept nudging his ribs and trying to climb up enough to lick his chin.

Goten laughed at him, constantly dancing around and trying to jump up and peek at the puppies over his shoulder. Trunks had hit a growth spurt that year and shot up almost half a foot, though he didn't seem to have gained a pound. Goten, on the other hand, seemed to have taken after his father, and had been stuck at just under five feet for years now.

And it was just possible that Goten's apparently young age explained why, when the mugger jumped out of the alley and pulled a gun on Trunks, he told the "little kid" to beat it.

"What are you doing?" Trunks yelled, surprised by the attack, and angry because his arms were too full of squirm puppies for him to do anything about it.

"I want your money, buddy, and I don't want any trouble, but if there is..." the punk pulled the hammer back on his pistol, keeping it aimed at Trunks' chest threateningly.

"Why you..." Trunks' blue eyes narrowed.

Goten could sense the jump in ki as his friend got ready to teach the thief exactly why you never mess with certain people in the West Capitol. "Don't Trunks! If he shoots you..."

The fair haired demi-saiyan blinked, and his glare turned darker, even as his ki faded. Normally a bullet wouldn't even be a passing concern for him, but for the puppies it was a whole different matter.

Unfortunately for the boys, the thief had no idea what was upsetting them so much. He was much more focused on the other bit of information he'd just received, "Trunks you say? Yeah, I see it now. You're the Briefs kid aren't you? I bet your parents would pay a really nice ransom, huh..."

"Not to anything like you," Trunks glared, but he didn't make a move one way or the other, not while he could feel those little heartbeats against his ribs.

"Hey kid," the thief said to Goten, "You're his friend, right? Go call his mom. Tell her I want twenty thousand zeni immediately or her precious heir gets it!"

"No!" Goten yelled, absolutely furious at this point. He could hear the puppies yipping more sharply, and he could see how uneasy Trunks was with the situation. And the unfairness was rubbing the young demi-saiyan the wrong way. "I'm not going anywhere!"

The punk then turned the gun on Goten, taking a menacing step forward as he did, "I've got six bullets kid, either you do what I say, or I can use your corpse to show Ms. Briefs I mean business!"

Goten's slid one foot forward, turning the toes out to give himself a better stance. The sound was unnaturally loud in the suddenly quiet alley. His voice booked no room for argument when he narrowed his eyes, "Then shoot me."

"What?"

"Goten!"

"I'm not going to leave, so you'll have to shoot me," Goten said, his voice calm and level.

"Well if you wanna be like that," The punk sneered and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Goten squarely in the chest, right over the small circle on his gi where his father's symbol had been sewn. And Goten didn't even flinch, even though getting shot stung worse than the hornets they got in the summer time.

"What?" The punk yelled, almost trembling as he realized his gun hadn't made a bit of difference to the tiny, angry kid.

"That was it? You'd better shoot me again," Goten commanded.

Almost reflexively the thief did, firing off two more rounds, both of which bounced off of Goten's chest like pebbles on a windshield. "Again!" Goten commanded, and he fired again, and again, and again.

The last bullet Goten caught instead of letting it hit him and bounce off. He held the twisted bit of metal up for the now trembling thief to see. "Now that you're out of bullets," he tossed the slug past the man so that it sank deeply into the brick wall behind him, "You should go."

"B-b-bu-but..." He just stood there trembling, whimpering and staring at Goten like he was some kind of monster.

Goten sighed, and blinked in front of the man, handing him his now crumpled gun. "Go away!" he demanded, his high, little-child's voice straining with anger, "And stop bugging people!"

With a few scrambling, stumbling steps the punk took off running as fast as he could on trembling legs. Both Goten and Trunks watched him until he had rounded a corner and was well out of sight.

"Idiot," Trunks sighed, "I could have gotten out of that myself."

"But what about the puppies?" Goten asked, already unzipping Trunks jacket to check that all the little fuzz balls were safe. Of course the little things weren't bothered at all by the excitement, and were instead quite happy to scramble all over Goten with yips and slobbery tongues.

Trunks sighed again, but there was really no heat behind it. "Man, I can't believe you even _tried_ to save me."

Goten ruffled the ears of one of the puppies in his arms and looked up at at his friend, totally guileless, "It's okay Trunks, I won't tell your dad."


End file.
